


Unstuck

by theautomaton



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 1/16 Altean lmao, Altean Lance (Voltron), Galra Keith (Voltron), Gay Character, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, I made this up on a whim don't judge me, Lance is like, M/M, Mild Blood, Nonbinary Character, Pansexual Character, Polyamory, Smut in the future probably, Super power AU, Trans Male Character, Will add tags as I go, i guess??, listen, superhero au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-16 17:01:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10575636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theautomaton/pseuds/theautomaton
Summary: Holes weren't so bad.At least they were warm.---<>---Lance has a power he really doesn't want but has had since he was a child. He has more that can only be unlocked by going to a fairy tale kingdom that shouldn't exist but it does. People wanting to kill him wasn't new to him, but them actually acting on it sure was.The people are cute though so he guesses it's not that bad.





	1. Holes

Life had a way of throwing itself at people and hoping it would stick. It could either propel them forward, or drop them in a hole and mock them as they climbed right back out. Society had a funny way of pulling those who already had a head start to the top while leaving those born in holes with nothing, then calling them selfish when they wanted a rope. Lance was born in a hole with stairs made out of the backs of the people he loved and decided he would never step on them to get where they all so desperately wanted to be. As soon as he did, those stairs toppled down and he figured that holes weren’t so bad.

At least they were warm.

 

* * *

 

Lance was just getting used to moving in with his grandmother and his many, many cousins when he found the letter tucked in the pocket of his work uniform apron. He took it, wondering if it was yet another secret admirer. He was used to those, he was a flirtatious guy, his boss teased that he flirted with anything that moved. Which he sort of did. After years of thinking his voice was the only thing that made people like him, he was pleased to see that his looks were enough to make employees and customers’ hearts flutter around him.

But, as he examined the letter in his hand, sealed with blue wax, he wondered just who he had flirted with that would go through such an expense.

“What’s it say this time?” his boss called over his shoulder, tone still teasing as he got ready to open up for the day, dusting coffee grains from his apron. Lance only frowned, something telling him that this letter wasn’t something he could just… show to anyone, so he tucked it into his apron again.

“The usual, my eyes are two pools of the clearest water, my skin is mocha and the scent of coffee in my hair after a day of work is their wet dream.” He lied easily, watching the man’s shoulders shake with a laugh.

“Sometimes I think I only keep you around because you attract so many customers.” The man said, laying a heavy hand on the center of Lance’s back.

“Come on, Pablo, you love me.” Lance smirked, turning and giving him finger guns, “But honestly, who could blame you?”

The little coffee shop was full with warm laughter, but all Lance could do was feel the pointed edge of the letter in his apron.

 

 

“Mamá! Abuela!” Lance called into the forever noisy home, grinning widely when his youngest cousins all launched themselves into his arms. Or as many as could fit in his arms, he honestly had way too many little cousins. “Ay, bebesitas, por favor.” He broke out in a fit of giggles as they tugged on his shirt. He stopped their grubby little hands when they reached for his bag.  
“Ayy Lance, por favor! We always do it, what’s so special now?” They had a habit of giving the letters to his older cousins so they could read it out loud and embarrass him more in front of his aunts and grandmother. Today though, he felt that letter really couldn’t be left to them. It was just so eerie. He was worried what it might say. Surely someone obsessed enough to write him a letter with an actual wax seal would be obsessed enough to write something extremely inappropriate or creepy. Both probably, if Lance had any feeling about it.

“Not today girls, I’m tired.” They all pouted but gave him the space he needed to head up to the bathroom to wash up. He’d probably be helping with dinner again, but well, that was life in their crowded little home.

Lance locked himself there, staring at the letter in his hands. He was half tempted to rip it up and flush it, but his mother flitted in his ear telling him not to. Also, he’d be damned if he ruined the plumbing. They were struggling as it was, they didn’t need it to aggravate the already delicate state of their old little home. “What are you?” he muttered at the odd letter, his name written on it so neatly. He gave a sigh and sat on the toilet seat while he carefully shuffled a well manicured (thanks to his cousins) nail under the wax seal and flipping it open. He debated with himself, and wondered if he should have just given it up to his cousins so they could do it like a band-aid. It was probably nothing anyway. Tugging the letter out, Lance finally settled to read it. He promptly let out a loud snort. Balling up the paper and tossing it in the bin, amusement rolled off of Lance in waves.  
“Abuela must have convinced Kimberly to write that.” With a shake of his head, Lance left the bathroom to bounce down the steps and take care of dinner. Dinner for him and more than just a few happy, growing girls was a difficult task for just his mother. But he learned how to handle it well.

“Hola amor.” His mother, Carmela, greeted him as he shuffled into the kitchen. She moved to kiss his chin, unable to reach his cheek or temple. She was a tiny woman, sometimes she teased that he’d be the one picking her up and tucking her in. “How was work? Any more suitors crashing through the windows for you?” She giggled and he smiled, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

“Of course, mamá, I do take after you don’t I?” Lance winked, taking her hand to squeeze before going off to grab the ingredients he’d need for dinner.

“No” she said, moving to sit at the table and watch him work. Sometimes she just needed a break from baby sitting all of her siblings’ children. “You take after mami, you’re tall like she was.”

“And ridiculously beautiful like you.” He cooed, moving to press his lips to the small woman’s forehead. She swatted him away with a laugh

“Well your mami gets it from her mami, Lance.” Lance’s grandmother, Mela, rolled her way in. The little speed demon probably ran over his cousin’s toes on the way.

“Claro, claro.” He snorted before going over and pressing his cheek to hers. “Yo no dije na’.”

“Lance.” Mela says, grabbing him gently by the hand, “Carmela and I need to talk with you.”

Well, that was never a good sign, except now he couldn’t really remember doing anything wrong. “Sure, what is it?”

She ushered him to a seat while his mother straightened up a bit, face going serious. Lance didn’t know if he was in trouble or if someone had died, but he had a feeling he wasn’t going to like it. Carmela reaches into her pocket and pulls out a letter with that familiar wax seal on it, unopened. “You received a letter.”

Lance stared at it for a moment longer, trembling fingers picking it up to turn over in his hands, “But… I just read it and threw it out? There’s another?”

Both women looked at each other before offering a nod. Mela leaned in a bit and pushed it forward. “It’s real, Lance. All those stories. They chose you.”

He sucked in a breath and closed his eyes before carefully opening the letter to read.

_Lance Espinoza,_

_We hope this letter finds you well. As you may know, Altea prides itself in choosing the most powerful beings to be trained to protect Earth and it’s powerless lifeforms. It would be a great honor if someone of your talents would join us in our never ending endeavor to protect all living things who cannot protect themselves. When you accept, please, ask your grandmother to inform you of the meeting grounds. We will be waiting._

_Attentively,_  
_Allura_

It wasn’t a prank?

“Abuela, you can’t expect me to believe this?” Lance turned to her and she bowed her head, moving to nudge Carmela.

His mother took a breath, held it, then said, “You have to, Lance. It’s true.”

“And you both knew about this? All my life?” Lance stared at them, trying to wrap his mind around why something like that would be kept from him.

“Your grandfather told us not to tell anyone until you got a letter from Allura.” His grandmother said, rolling closer to set a hand comfortingly on his thigh.

Vaguely, Lance considered actually slapping her hand away, but Mela didn’t deserve that if she was simply honoring his grandfather’s wishes. They old man had been smart and tactical, a goof ball too, he was always told he took after him and considered that a compliment. Even if he didn’t remember him that well, “Alright, okay, so let’s say I go along with this” he pointedly ignored both the women’s sharp looks, “What, exactly, am I supposed to do?”

Mela squeezed his thigh then clapped her hands on the armrests of her wheelchair, “You’re heading to the lake and you’re staying there overnight. Pack all your things, they’ll find you.” And then she was rolling away, leaving Lance to gape after her before turning that look on his mother.

“I just want to make sure she knows I’m not a white teenager in a horror movie.” And then the uproarious laughter of his mother filled the kitchen.

 

 

Lance was almost sure he was on some sort of pranking show right now. He had a tent set up, all of his bags inside and a little fire in front of him to keep warm after he tried to drown himself in the lake. It was a valiant attempt, see if he could wake himself up from what he was sure was just a very imaginative dream he was having but that didn’t work and now he was going to catch a cold. Or something. He’d never gotten sick before, now that he thought about it.

In fact he really didn’t want to think of the fact he had never gotten sick or broken a bone. He could hardly remember the last bruise he got, and it barely registered in his head that the only time he had seen his own blood was when he nearly sliced off a finger when he was eight. The doctors were sure he was going to lose it, and then he didn’t. It took a lot to hurt Lance, physically, even if he was all legs and arms with not much tone to them save for some soft spots with baby fat he was never going to lose. Which he himself thought looked absolutely adorable on him, thanks.

Did he even have a scar?

A quick inspection in the light of the fire confirmed that he indeed did not have a single scar. None that he could remember. Of course, his immune system and unmarred skin weren’t part of his super powers. He has a feeling accelerated healing just came with everyone who had abilities like him. What he remembered of his grandfather was that he was very active for an old man, and he passed away in his sleep. He wondered what ability the man had before him. If he had the same one he wondered how the old man had dealt with it. It was a very morally dubious ability, after all. At least for Lance it was, he hated using it.

He was about to wonder if tossing himself in the lake for a second time to actually swim would be an option, just to beat away the overwhelming boredom he was beginning to feel. Because when he was bored, he thought about things, and if there was one joke his cousin Carmen always made that was true beyond what she would ever understand, thinking hurts him. Because he thinks of every little wrong thing he’s done, even when he wasn’t in the wrong. He thinks of his parents, how his father left because of him. Never mind the fact the man was a monster who didn’t deserve them anyway. He still had traitorous thoughts. Maybe he always would.

He was uncurling from his position next to the fire when a crack sounded next to him. Blindly, he reached for the knife in his pocket and let the blade out in one fluid movement. “Who’s there?” he asked the trees, brow furrowing in frustration when nothing answers back. He stared for longer, but he wasn’t one for the night very often. He couldn’t see clearly at all even with the fire, but when nothing moves again Lance takes it as a sign nothing is there. His hackles slowly lower, sighing at himself, “Probablemente un animalito.” But the words don’t properly leave his mouth before a flash of purple tackles him to the ground, Lance’s head narrowly missing one of the stones circling the fire.

The beast is in armor, and he says beast because there is no way something purple and furry like the thing on top of him was human. They rolled around for a bit, Lance trying to buck the creature off and the assailant trying to pin him down. Which he finally did after several minutes of the struggle and Lance was a bit proud of himself for it. He wasn’t much of a fighter, but this thing looked like a soldier of some sort and he had put up quite the fight. It had a knife it swung down, aimed for his throat, but Lance went for the lesser of two evils by bringing up his arm and let it slice through that instead. While it was distracted with his arm, Lance swung his other hand over, his own knife held in a white knuckled grip as he drove it into a soft patch of flesh he saw was unprotected in the light of the fire. He doesn’t know what or who is on top of him, but he has yet to know anything that could walk away from that. Just as he wanted, the purple soldier fell back with a wet gurgle and god Lance hated that sound. The movies never quiet capture how a gurgled cry of pain or wet, dying scream can make your skin crawl and stomach turn and suddenly he wishes he had never heard anything.

“Better it than me.” He decided, but stumbled back onto a log, staring at his bleeding arm in something akin to horror, disgust and…. amazement. He wondered if one could die from it and if he’d be dead before he saw that precious Altea of the stories his grandfather told. So not only did he kill a presumably sentient being, but it was going to be for nothing because he was going to bleed all over himself by the time the cavalry arrived. If it arrived at all. At least that attack left him a bit more open to this fantasy world he was being thrust into.

He glanced up as an impossibly bright light washed out the night. He mourned the loss of the stars from the light pollution, head swimming at the sudden change in lighting. He was dizzy enough as it was, he didn’t need this right then. He heard his name called by a voice, it was formal. His full name on someone’s tongue sounded odd. It was a mouth full, why would anyone even bother? But then an impossibly broad figure was bent over him and scooping him up.

“You know,” he began, voice muffled against a black and white chest plate, “you can just call me Lance.”

He didn’t really hear a response to that because the light left him and he mourned the loss of that too.

Lance mourned the loss of a lot of things just then.


	2. Shifting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feel your throat

Lance felt cold, very cold. But it wasn’t bad for some reason. It was almost as reassuring as a warm blanket to him, which was odd, because all his life he always got cold easily and hated the feeling. Just then though, there was nothing he wanted more than to be cold and stay cold. Of course he doesn’t get his wish, because honestly when does he ever.  
He fell forward against a broad chest and strong arms. A snort to himself and Lance thinks about the fact he’s dreamt about strong arms wrapping around him like this all his life. Maybe he was a prophet too. The warmth of the figure made him uncomfortable at the moment though and he weakly pushed at their chest, falling back against what felt like cool glass and cold metal. “Too hot.” He muttered, voice thick and eyes still shut. He tried rubbing at them delicately, getting them to crack open even a little to assess the situation.

“You were just in a cryo healing pod!” a voice to his right says and he lazily rolls his neck in their direction, trying to squint at the larger form. “You should be freezing.”

Lance furrowed his brow and pouted, sliding down the smooth surface against his back, looking up to see the one who caught him going down to get on his level too. Lance snorts at them, grinning a little, “Cold never bothered me anyway.” And broke into a fit of raspy giggles, finally getting his eyes to cooperate and open fully. The lights were a little blinding but he adjusted quickly enough. “Is it too much to ask for water from my alien abductors?”

A higher pitched voice to his left scoffs and he looks up at them, still blurry, but he swears he sees flowers in their hair. He does appreciate them the most because they actually give him a glass. “We didn’t abduct you. But you really are the first to almost get yourself killed before you even get to Altea.”

There was something odd about each of them. The small one had flowers in their hair that did not look like accessories. The big one had what looked like scales lining the skin around their eyes, chin, neck and their hands seemed bulkier, Lance doesn’t know if those are gloves or not but they look like they’re made of stone. And the one in front of him, the incredibly attractive one in front of him, had large wings on their back.

Lance stared for a moment longer before he smiled sleepily at them all, “Are all the people of Altea this pretty?”

They all paused, obviously taken aback. The one with stone hands flushed furiously. The small one with flowers looked away and coughed into their fist. And the one in front of him offered an indulgent smile but was obviously caught between flattered and shocked so they defaulted into a kind look.

“Can you tell me your names? And pronouns and stuff? Wouldn’t want to get that wrong.” Lance asked when the silence stretched for longer than he would have liked.

The one with flowers in their hair perked up and made their way over to him, “I’m Pidge and I like they/them. Do people ask for pronouns first all the time now?” Pidge asked, very pleased and enthusiastic and it reminded Lance of his cousins.

“Hardly anyone does, but they should.” Lance responded with a smile, looking towards the others. “And you two?”

The big one smiled warmly, “I’m Hunk and I go with he/him.”

And last was the one with wings, watching the exchange curiously, head tilted before he smiled back at Lance, “I’m Shiro, I use he/him for myself. What about you?”

“I’m Lance.” He offered a hand, “I go by he/him.” He watched Shiro take his hand and shake it, smiling a bit at him.

“Introductions are all done I assume?” a voice called from the other end of the room and Lance looked over to see a pretty odd sight. Well, as if what he had already seen wasn’t odd but he hadn’t been expecting it is all.

They looked like him. Like the pictures of his grandfather when he was younger and they resembled Lance even more with the softer curve of their jaw. They had pointed ears though and silver hair, which obviously didn’t resemble him or his grandfather at all. He still hadn’t fully adjusted to the lighting, but he caught on that there was probably something on their cheeks. Tattoos, maybe?

“I am princess Allura.” The new comer held a hand up and Lance nodded a bit.

“Pronouns, princess?” He asked because it distracted him of the nagging need to bombard them with questions about his grandfather.

“She/her” Allura responded easily, seemingly gliding over to him. In fact, Lance was fairly sure she wasn’t touching the ground at all. “I would like you to come with me, Lance.”

He nodded, numb, and took her still offered hand as she helped him up and walked him out of the room. He glanced back once, waving at his three new friends, he assumed, before turning back to the direction he was being pulled. “So, where are we going?”

“My office.” Allura says and holds a door open for him. He tries to convince himself that the action isn’t a jab at him, because he’s fairly sure it isn’t, but years of people doing it with a mutter of ‘Ladies first’ resulted in a knee jerk reaction to the simplest motions.

He stepped inside and looked around, whishing there was something he could actually commit to memory, but it was dull and plain, nothing like the woman that had lead him there, “Lovely.” He said, voice flatter than he intended. “What would you like to talk about, princess?”

Allura made her way to the other side of the desk, sitting down and waving her hand for him to do the same in front of her, “Your abilities, Mr. Espinoza. I’m sure you’re aware of one of them?”

“One of them” Lance echoed, moving to sit on his hands across from her, eyebrows climbing, “I have more?”

She gave a nod, curling her fingers together, “Yes, I suspect one or two more. As most super humans.”

He was sure his eyebrows would be swallowed by his hairline at this point, “And those three get their appearance from it?”

Allura offered another nod, “Very good. Pidge is a technopath and also has the ability to control plant life. Hunk can manipulate emotions and has the ability to control most minerals. And Shiro has the power of flight and able to control the winds any way he sees fit.”

“And when I control my other powers I’ll look different too?” it didn’t sound pleasant. He was happy the way he looked, a change wasn’t particularly welcome.

The princess paid his inner turmoil little mind, “Precisely.”

Lance nodded and leaned back in his seat, staring at the ceiling, “And why would you need me? You have the elements at your finger tips, technology can bend at your will, you can make people feel anything and you can fly. Plural you, by the way.” He swished a hand through the air, “I don’t see why you need me. Other than the fact I’m devilishly handsome.” Lance grinned even as Allura leaned away, exasperated.

“Interrogation.” She said simply, standing up to continue, “It’s difficult to get information out of our prisoners. Even Hunk’s ability to make them feel pliant can prove untrustworthy. But, it is rather hard to refuse to give something to someone when you’re completely at the mercy of their very voice.”

Lance’s lip curled unpleasantly. He schooled his face before the princess caught it, offering a larger than life grin and brilliant eyes, “Sorry, seems like you have wrong dude princess! Thanks for patching me up and all, but I’m just going to head off.” He stood, patted the stunned princess on the shoulder, and moved to make his way out.

Of course, he doesn’t make it that far before the princess is curling her fingers around his ear and tugging him to the ground. “Are you not Lance Espinoza, grandchild of Locklans McClain?”

He grunted from his place on the ground, surprised just how much this hurt. “Yes.” Lance choked out, “But he has twenty grand kids! I should know, I take care of ten of them!”

Allura pushed him forward and let go, standing back and straightening out her clothes, “But you are the only child who inherited his abilities.”

He huffed and sat up, brushing himself off, “Thanks, but no thanks. Guess you’ll just have to wait for it to skip a few generations again because there is no way in hell I’m just letting you guys use me as your extractor. No matter how cute you are!”

Allura’s eyes flash, actual piercing light coming from them, before she blinks down at him, “We do not have time to wait! This is your opportunity to actually do something, Mr. Espinoza. I suggest you take it.”

That dug deeper into him than he expected, and he held a hand to his chest with the sheer pang of inadequacy he felt. He glared up at her defiantly before slowly nodding his head, “Fine, but I’m not talking to just anyone. I get to decide who is worth my time.” And he stood, glaring fiercely at her as something shifted under the flesh of his throat, “Got it?” there was a certain lilt to that, it left no room for disagreement.

Allura moved her jaw, trying to deny his conditions, but her voice couldn’t be found if it was anything but acceptance and she nodded with a huff, “Very well.”

Lance grinned, something that didn’t quite reach those expressive eyes of his as he walked away, “Thanks beautiful! Knew I could count on you.”

She watched the man leave her office and coughed into her fist. She hadn’t felt something like that since Locklans used it on her to leave Altea, Coran hot on his heels. She realized two things just then. Lance was far more advanced with his voice than Locklans was at his age, and with no formal training as well. And, she may have just made an awful mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lance asks for everyone's pronouns because he has fucking 20 cousins, the probability of all of them being cisgender or in the binary is low. Also assuming is shitty, let me have this.

**Author's Note:**

> I did this between pumping chapters for You Didn't Ask. Because I'm weak okay? Okay.
> 
> Also it was inspired by Riptide by Vance Joy


End file.
